Far Dareis Mai
by Aleacus
Summary: Wetlanders, Treekillers, and Oosquai, oh my! What happens when you throw a Cairhien into the Waste to die? Will she survive? Seek revenge, or perhaps romance? My first WoT fanfic
1. Sweet Simplicity

Author's Note: Well, here's the first chapter of a new fanfic. I've decided that since I have been previously flamed to the max for Mary Sue-ness, to try to make something very not-Sue, if that makes any sense. I haven't thought out the whole plot yet, so it could lead to an A/R type of thing. I'm putting this in the time frame of the 3rd-ish book. Please review! I'm not asking you to sugar-coat it and absolutely love my fanfic, but _no _flames. I'm perfectly okay with you not loving my story. There is a line between constructive criticism and unleashing your irritation on someone with a tongue-lashing. Believe me. It's true.

_Sweet Simplicity_

Bethania was a simple woman, if a touch stubborn. Young, yet newly widowed, she had been married to one of the Children of the Light, whom died tragically in battle. As a basket weaver in a small town in the low foothills in Cairhien, she could hardly make a living from her creations. In a painful decision, she sent her young son and daughter to relatives better off, in hopes that they would be raised well.

Standing in her kitchen looking out the window, she idly fixed her pale blue woolen dress and apron. The golden afternoon light gently tinged her well-kept garden, and shimmered through a decorative colored broken glass mobile hanging from her porch. She smiled wistfully - her husband helped her children make that for her. Determinedly, she set the fire alight and poured water in the large pot. _Dinner won't make itself_, she knew for a fact.

She sat down at the small simply carved wooden table off to the side of her kitchen. She had a pile of completed baskets sitting there, waiting to be delivered the next morning, and another that was nearly finished on the table before her. She picked up the basket and examined it closely. She put in a few more weavings while pondering how to color the next basket, waiting for the water in the large pot to boil. Her deft hands, small if calloused, worked quickly around the edge of the basket. She set her work down when she heard the water simmering, and dumped some vegetables and meat in the pot. The ordinary day didn't call for anything spectacular to be made.

Leaning on the counter and watching the setting sun, her mind slowly wandered. She wanted to know how her children were, and hoped the Light blessed her husband's soul. Her thoughts were broken by the laughter of her two neighbors, Natile and Fylene, who came to her gate and were chattering up gossip. Bethania waved to them to come in, and moved again to the fire to put on a kettle for tea. The two women walked in, and embraced Bethania.

"Well! Dinner already?" Natile inquired.

"Yes, I'm afraid so." Bethania replied and shrugged meekly.

"Ha! Girl, we need to get you back with a man." Fylene shifted her weight and crossed her arms.

"I agree. Grief is grief, but... don't you think there might be... a time to move on?" Natile inquired more timidly this time.

Bethania was, admittedly, a little shocked. She had never considered another man. She felt a twinge of compulsion to dig her heels in.

"I'm all right. I don't need a man." She felt her face fall a slight downcast, but tried to stay upbeat. "Besides," she continued, "women don't _have_ to have a man around constantly to bother them." She smiled cheekily while she moved to pour hot water and herbs for three cups of tea.

"Oh, Light save me," Fylene replied, "I can't believe I'm hearing this! Women belong with men! That's how life works!"

Bethania's eyes nearly narrowed at the comment, but she retained her composure.

"Some of us," she gamely replied back, "do not work with life." She quietly sipped her tea and watched the two other women over the rim of her cup. She saw their thoughtful, if mildly annoyed faces and knew she hit a nerve. Oh yes, she knew her friends' lives very well. Prosperous in a small town, husbands to care for them, children to care for, a happy life, for what came to them. Bethania had some pitfalls, but wasn't ready for anyone to start pitying her for the things they saw she lacked.

Later that evening, after her friends went along their way back to their own houses to make their own families' dinners, Bethania was trying to finish the basket she was working on earlier, unsuccessfully. Her mind kept wandering to her family. Shaking her head, she tried to focus on the basket. But there was always a twinge of pain in more recent days. Bethania was having difficulties not breaking down and crying with the thoughts of missing her children and husband, living a lonely life in her small house. _Perhaps I should get a pet. Maybe a cat? Something else to put my mind on..._ Bethania decided that tomorrow she would go out and look for a kitten in the town, perhaps buy one.

A scream sounded distantly in the town. Bethania sat up rigid. _What under the Light could that be?_ Her town was obviously not one for thieves and murderers. And yet, more screams sounded, spreading out in the area and coming closer. Bethania immediately blew out the candles in her kitchen and looked out the window, trying in vain to see what was possibly coming. She heard loud trudging footsteps and beast-like snarling. _It couldn't possibly be Trollocs, could it?_ She panicked and ran through her house, and found a decent closet to lock herself up in, near two exits in case she needed to run quickly. She prayed she had cut off any sort of light, and had possibly left her home looking unused. She grimaced, knowing her garden was indeed well kept.

With a bang, she heard the kitchen door bang open, and hungry growling accompanying feet, claw-like, paw-like, and hoof-like. Bethania held her breath.

"Search the house!" a dark and threatening voice called.

_That was most certainly human. _ Bethania pondered. She was jerked out of her thoughts when her closet door ripped open to a snarling beast. Bethania shrieked and tried to escape, but was grasped by the back of her neck roughly and drug towards the kitchen. Bethania struggled still, unwilling to let herself be thrown in a Trolloc cook pot. The scary Trolloc with human eyes and a bear's snout for a mouth where the nose and mouth should have been growled at her and gripped her neck tighter, digging its claws more. Bethania fought tears of pain as she was dropped onto her own kitchen floor. A pair of clean boots walked up and stopped merely a foot from her.

Carefully, Bethania looked up and examined the tall, dark man before her. He was well dressed, looking more like a lord than anything else, with a well-fitting silk black coat and close-fitting black breeches neatly tucked in to his knee-high boots. She was quite startled before she realized what the man was. _Darkfriend..._ she snarled to herself. Being wife to one of the Children of the Light had brought considerably more hatred towards darkfriends than the average person who still lived under the Light. The man picked her up roughly by the arm, and set her on her feet, standing her unsteadily. He was quite tall and handsome, she cursed herself for thinking. Yet she merely came up to the middle of his chest. Looking into his face, she couldn't quite place an age on him.

The man smiled a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"What have we here? A pretty girl living alone in her house? How very unsafe..." he trailed off with a grin that sent chills down Bethania's back. He grabbed her chin and turned her head left and right, apparently examining her. She bit back a reply and sizzled quietly to herself. "You know, glaring is not very good for a face like yours. Makes more wrinkles when you are older." The bloody man had the _nerve_ to smirk! Bethania's teeth ground in reply. The man pulled her even closer by the waist, and smiled once more, that cold smile. "How about I spare you as Trolloc feast and you come live with me?" Bethania's eyes widened in surprise, but her anger boiled more. She would not be another woman for this man whom she suspected already had many more women to sleep with.

With a useless attempt to bite back the coldness in her voice, she replied,

"I have lived my entire life under the Light. I would not spoil myself for the Shadow, even in death." Even if she had to crane her neck to glare at him properly, her fury spat at him with every word. The man's eyes narrowed in reply, but Bethania continued, "I would not come with you for any reason! You... you... you murderous and horrible darkfriend!" She practically screamed at the man, and tried to push herself out of his grasp. He merely grimaced and held her tighter to himself, trying to contain his own self.

"I see," he responded. "Well, perhaps you are indeed a waste for Trollocs. No, I think a woman of your _stature_ would do well in..." He pondered for a moment. "In the Waste." His evil grin made Bethania struggle more, but he grasped her head in one hand, which practically encompassed the entire thing. She shrieked with pain as a burning icy sensation went through her body, and over every inch of her skin. Bethania could feel nothing besides pain as the man roughly put a dark and heavy woolen cloak on her and chucked her onto the ground. She landed on hard, dirty dry ground, and every pore in her body was immediately sucked dry of any moisture, and in the darkness she felt very cold. Bethania curled up right there on the ground, shivering from the cold, and shaking with sobs. _The pain... Oh the pain..._


	2. Be My Escape

Author's Note: Yay! A second whopping chapter. Thank you kindly to those who have reviewed... Ahem. It has occurred to me that this just may as well be entirely A/U. I still do not know where I want to go with this fic, I have only a vague path in mind. Anyway... Please review! I'm not asking you to sugar-coat it and absolutely love my fanfic, but _no_ flames. I'm perfectly okay with you not loving my story. There is a line between constructive criticism and unleashing your irritation on someone with a tongue-lashing. Believe me. It's true.

_Be My Escape_

Bethania groaned and rolled over on the soft pallet she was laying on. Upon gaining consciousness, she realized that the last thing she remembered was being chucked out onto the dirty dry ground. Her attempts to pry her eyes open were relatively unsuccessful, but she found herself in a low tent, and a tall woman dressed brown-grey breeches and soft boots crouching beside her, watching closely. Bethania skittered backwards (or tried to) and groggily demanded. "Where am I? Who are you?"

The woman crouched beside her smiled slightly, and offered a small bowl filled with water.

"You are in the Three-fold Land, with the Jagged Spire Sept of the Taardad Aiel, in the tents of the Maidens of the Spear. I am Charime of the Jagged Spire Sept of the Taardad Aiel." The Maiden tilted her head and smiled a small smile on her dark face. Her fiery hair fell forwards slightly, making her seem more like a caring mother than anything else.

Bethania, however, nodded as if she perfectly understood. _Aiel... Aiel... wasn't there some type of feud between the Cairhienin and Aiel?_ she pondered desperately, not knowing if to be scared. The Aiel woman looked at her with a touch of sympathy.

"Do not worry, we offer you water and shade freely. When we saw you lying out in the emptiness of the desert, crying out from hallucinations, we knew something was incredibly wrong. After looking you over, we decided perhaps one of our Wise Ones could heal you." Charime reached for Bethania's face and touched it slightly. "You are looking much better already." Charime's smile grew. She turned around and offered Bethania a cup of water to drink.

_Crying out? Hallucinations? Wise Ones? Healing? What under the Light?_ Bethania couldn't think straight. "Wha—!" her question was cut off by her own shriek as she had reached out for the cup of water Charime offered. One look at her hand which looked nothing like her own sent Bethania's mind reeling. Shucking off the cloak that wrapped her, Bethania's eyes quickly went over what skin she could see. It was entirely unbelievable.

Her skin had very little feeling- touching things or being touched. Her skin was a pale and pasty yellow in color, and had a rough texture. Bethania reached up to her face, only to feel the same thing. She felt numb on the outside, and yet inside she felt healthy. Stuck inside of a shell. Trapped. Captured. Oh, this would never do.

Charime blinked slowly watching Bethania. "This... is not how you normally look?"

"Of course not!" Bethania's voice squeaked out from surprise. Taking a few deep breaths, she calmed herself. "No, no. I... It was that man. That man did something to me, and then threw me out into the Waste."

Charime leaned forward intently. "A man? Threw?" Bethania nodded for what she could.

"My town was raided by Trollocs last night. I hid in a closet, and a Trolloc found me, and grabbed me and dropped me before a man. He... He was well dressed, and I knew him for darkfriend immediately."

Charime nodded as if she knew exactly what Bethania was talking about. When she noticed Bethania stopped, she gave a small wave of her hand for Bethania to continue.

"He asked me if I wanted to be 'spared' from Trollocs, and come away with him. I refused, and so... he did something to me." Bethania could feel emotions rising within her again, the pain did not seem to leave so easily. "He grabbed my head... and it sent pain through my whole body and over all of my skin..." She trailed off before she let her emotions take a full hold of her.

In response, Charime rocked back on her heels and seemed to ponder what Bethania was saying. Silence stretched within the tent.

She finally spoke again, "I wish we could help you, but we fear going on the other side of the Dragonwall is risky, and we have other duties to our clans and societies here." She offered another cup of water in seeming askance for forgiveness.

Bethania took the cup and nodded, and drank some water. She was certainly not used to this climate. She set her cup down beside her and bit her lip, wondering about the Aiel woman.

"Do you...? No, no..." Bethania started to ask, but trailed off and stopped herself. She knew the Aiel were a tough people. She figured from the type of dress, weapons, and title, that some of these women fought alongside the men. She wanted that. Bethania knew in her heart right then, that would be the thing to heal herself from the pain of her past.

"Do I what? Do not be afraid to ask. Perhaps I can help." The Aiel woman seemed intent on making sure Bethania knew she could voice her own words.

"I just... Well..." She couldn't bring herself to ask, she just couldn't. But Charime's look was intense. So, everything simply spilled.

"I wondered if it was possible for me to become a Maiden of the Spear." Bethania nearly gasped after saying it, and tried to hid her face in the cup of water again.

And yet, the Maiden's eyebrows simply lifted slightly. No gasping, no shock. These people were really made of stone. Her weight shifted from a squat to a sit on the rug beside Bethania.

"Well... It would not be my choice to let you become... one of us," she began slowly. "Your... circumstances make me curious. May I ask why you wish to be wedded to the spear?"

Bethania nodded. "My life has not been perfect. My husband died years ago, and I sent my children off to my relatives because I knew I could not raise them properly with what I made. I am a basket weaver in my town, and... there is not so much business as there could be. Also, I can hardly imagine myself traveling back out of here... I feel fine on the inside, but I think it would be a struggle for even the fittest person." Charime listened carefully. She seemed open and honest, without ill intent. And so, Bethania continued, "Perhaps... changing my life will heal my heart from the past..." She trailed off, trying to avoid her emotions again.

Yet Charime smiled. "Many girls and women are eager to become Maidens for the very same reason. My concern is your health, and fitness, even though you say you feel fine on the inside. However, the Aiel are not exactly... kind... to wetlanders. The Three-fold Land is no place for coddling. Perhaps only a fistful in the history of the Aiel have tried to become like us. You seem strong in spirit, so perhaps you will be part of that fistful." The woman stood up partially and went to the tent door, and pulled another Maiden from outside to come in. Charime's companion didn't even seem mildly surprised.

"I am Keihrin of the Four Holes sept of the Taardad Aiel." Keihrin paused for a reply from Bethania, and she suddenly remembered it was probably very rude to not even introduce herself.

"Oh. I am Bethania Eran from Sunamdre." She hoped that perhaps neither her accent nor town deemed her obviously Cairhienin. Both Aiel smiled slightly in reply.

There was chaos in the clans. Organized chaos, perhaps, to an extent, but chaos nonetheless. Word was spreading like wildfire that there was a wetlander in one of the Maiden's tents, a sick one, a diseased one, a dying one. A woman captured, a guest, a man who was being tortured, who could say? Odd thing was, the Wise Ones were refusing to pass information on to non-Wise Ones. Which proved some of the Aiel's point that the newcomer was injured to an extent. Or perhaps in trouble. Again, no one could say.

The tent flap opened and Bethania, Charime, and Keihrin looked up to see two Aiel women clad in blouses and long gray brown skirts with short wiry hair coming through the doorway.

"Ahhh! You are up and awake." The first woman smiled slightly, almost warmly. The second nodded curtly, and both sat down, arranging their skirts. Bethania watched both for a moment before speaking up.

"Yes, I'm awake. But I'm not too sure how well I'm feeling." She glanced down at her pasty pale hand unassuredly. The second Aiel woman in skirts nodded curtly again. Bethania was about to feel perplexed, but the woman interrupted her thoughts.

"I am Jerydn of the Four Holes sept of the Taardad Aiel. I am one of the Wise Ones that helped you earlier yesterday."

_Yesterday? I've been asleep for more than a day? Oh dear..._ Bethania suddenly became worried, and knots tied themselves in her stomach.

"I am Wionni, also of the Four Holes sept of the Taardad Aiel. Jerydn and I are near-sisters and Wise Ones." She glanced over at Jerydn and smiled slightly, and the smile was returned, to Bethania's amazement. Suddenly Bethania was hit with questions. What is a Wise One? What about a near-sister? Jerydn rearranged herself nearer to Bethania and felt her face and hands cautiously. Removing Bethania's cloak, she also felt up her arms and on her stomach. Everywhere, the sickly pasty pale skin was calloused and thick, nerveless and decaying. Bethania bit her lip worriedly. She had an idea that perhaps Wise Ones were healers, or like the legendary Aes Sedai?

Charime coughed slightly. "I beg your pardon, Wise One..." she tilted her head down, directing her question to Jerydn. "The ... wetlander... Bethania... and I were speaking. I know it is not of our custom, and I know that Bethania appears very sick right now... But I do know that she has lived a difficult life, and... She requested to wed the Spear." She finished in a hurry, almost seeming abashed, quite contrary to her appearance. Both Wise Ones turned to her, and just as Wionni appeared to just about unleash a tongue-lashing, the tent flap burst open again.


End file.
